Petty nodded as he backed away from her.

  Chavez raised a hand and snapped her fingers. The two NWC CEOs stood. She beckoned imperiously, and all three left the chamber.

  “Odd,” Petty said, looking at Huber. “Why did she agree so easily?”

  “You outmaneuvered her,” Huber said. “I don’t think she’s used to that. Your gesture must have appealed to her on a fundamental level.”

  “Appealed to someone like her?” Petty asked. “Isn’t Maria Chavez a hard-hearted realist?”

  “Are any of us, really?” Huber asked. “Perhaps we think we are, but in the final analysis, sometimes it is the grand gesture that propels an event. You played a hunch, Mr. Petty, and I salute you for that.

  “Indeed,” Petty said. “Will you have a drink with me, then?”

  Huber frowned for only a moment. Had Petty been drinking more lately? Had the stress of his position been getting to him as he aged? Petty could not lift as much as he used to. Did getting old, or the idea of it, sap some of his former power?

  “Yes, of course,” Huber said. “I would be glad to have a drink with you. Your gesture, sir, may have saved the human race.”

  “Let us hope so,” Petty said. Then he headed for the liquor cabinet.

  -11-

  Director Livia Drusus was in a rage, and she was having a difficult time containing it. In a large auditorium, she berated her highest-ranking military leaders assembled before her in rows of chairs. Lined against the walls were all the rotations of her personal bodyguards. They were all seven to seven and a half feet tall, all females, the lightest weighing 280, the heaviest, 365 pounds. The bodyguards were almost all muscle and bone, highly trained in taking out threats.

  The bodyguards watched the cowering military personnel with hawk-like gazes while clutching blast rifles. The guards seemed eager for the order to murder everyone, which would wipe out the entire high command of the World Government forces.

  The Director presently grew red-faced as she strode back and forth before her silent, likely terrified, senior officer corps.

  Livia railed against the latest loss: the Indonesian islands. No NWC soldiers had waded ashore from submarines or parachuted from dirigibles; there hadn’t been any need. In a coordinated three-day weekend, the WG military stationed in Indonesia had slaughtered all the secret police and regular police. Then the military commanders had voted to join the New World Conglomerate, becoming the new acting corporation heads for Indonesian industries and agribusinesses.

  Here the aliens were nearing Earth. Petty was hard at work assembling a fourth Orion ship, a gift from the NWC. That meant the NWC was in Petty’s hip pocket. Livia knew Petty wanted to control the planet, and that this was his secret and laborious method of wresting one piece of the World Government from her at a time.

  “What is wrong with you cretins?” Livia shouted, shaking her fists at them as spit flew from her mouth.

  Many of the bodyguards along the walls were grinning huge, loving it. This could get interesting real soon.

  “Why do your soldiers not report the traitors among them?” Livia shouted. “Why did the Indonesian army betray me in such a grotesque fashion?”

  Livia continued in that vein, cursing at times, striding back and forth more quickly than ever.

  A psychologically astute observer might have wondered if the Director was working herself into a frenzy so she could order the death of all the top-ranked military officers. That meant her Air Force commanders, the Submarine Force admirals, the Army, Secret Police, Missile Command, all of the highest-ranking and important military professionals. They had all failed her. All had failed Earth. By their lack of diligence, by their lack of insight, by their lack of—

  As Livia ranted, a hand rose from the middle of the huddled ranks of military personnel. They no longer seemed like soldiers or warriors, but like nervous rabbits ready to break and run. Unfortunately for them, wherever their eyes strayed, they saw the brutal bodyguards grinning back at them, obviously eager to spill blood.

  Now, though, Livia was so stunned by the raised hand that she stopped shouting and spewing spit. The hand possessed a red stripe around the sleeve by the wrist. That showed the owner of the hand belonged to Missile Command. He was a large man, sitting in the middle of the assembly. He had a shock of black hair, and was strong. In some ways, he reminded Livia of the boorish James Petty, whom she hated. However, the man wasn’t Petty but Senior General Tom Bain. She dearly hated Bain as well. He was, however, one of the more useful, competent officers in her employ.

  “You dare to interrupt me?” Livia asked in a loud voice.

  The hand did not waver, but continued to stick straight up.

  Slowly at first, and then like a ripple, all the military personnel turned inward to gaze at Bain who sat up straight, with an unbowed head. Bain was perhaps the only one who did not have frightened features. The others stared at him, shocked.

  Then there was the scrape of chairs as people slid away from him, as if he had the plague of sudden death—a plague of bullets that might tear into them at any second.

  “Stand up,” Livia said.

  Senior General Bain did not appear to be under any illusion who she meant. He stood and lowered his hand, waiting for her.

  “I suppose you want to utter a pathetic excuse in defense of your pitiful service?” Livia said.

  Senior General Bain dipped his head. “If it pleases the Director—”

  “It does not please me,” Livia said, shouting him down. “I find it offensive that you would try to defend the actions that have brought about this wretched disunion on the eve of an alien invasion.”

  Bain said nothing, as he did not rebut her or offer an excuse. However, he did not flinch, either. He merely looked straight ahead. He did not stare at her. Perhaps he had that much sense. Did he think himself courageous?

  Livia wondered if she should order her bodyguards to march him to the Shark Tank. No, that would be too swift and sudden. Bain might enjoy such a so-called fighting end. Perhaps she would have the bodyguards shackle him and lower him into the lamprey pool. It would take time for the foul creatures to attach to him and suck his fluids dry.

  The assembled officers had reason to fear her. There were terrible ways to die. Livia explored new and awful methods with those who displeased her.

  “You have balls,” Livia told Bain. “I’ll give you that. Thus, I’ll allow you to spout several of your pitiful excuses.”

  “Director,” Bain said in a masculine voice, “I do not wish to spout excuses. The departments that failed you were not under my jurisdiction. If such individuals had been, I would have had them shot. If you wanted their heads, I would have personally brought them to you.”

  “Why would I want severed heads? Do you think I’m a cannibal?”

  “On no account, Director. I think you are the World Government’s guiding light. These weasels of the New World Conglomerate, and Petty with his evil schemes—”

  “Enough,” Livia said, interrupting. “You appear to be brave and stalwart, but your words are no more than a sniveling desire to gain my goodwill. You do not have my goodwill, however. How can I have any goodwill for any of you when I do not control a Space Force? When the orbital station personnel do as they please? When a part of the world has sneeringly said they will not do their share in the defense of the planet? Why, I am sure that some in the NWC or in the orbitals are in direct communication with the aliens.”

  “To my knowledge, they are not, Director,” Bain said.

  “What?” Livia said, shocked at his impropriety. “You dare to contradict me?”

  Several of the bodyguards along the walls smiled in a sadistic manner, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. No doubt, the Director would order one of them to wrestle with the Senior General and make him scream for mercy before they broke his back and left him a mewling mess on the floor.

  “How could you possibly know that the others are not in communication with the aliens?” Livia asked loudly.

  “Because Missile Command monitors all communications leaving Earth and near-Earth,” Bain said. “In part, we do this so we can be ready at a moment’s notice to obliterate any who side with the aliens.”

  “Obliterate?” asked Livia. “How do you mean?”

  “By using thermonuclear warheads against them, Director,” Bain said.

  Livia blinked several times. “You would unleash thermonuclears against the orbitals?”

  “If we thought they were in commune with the enemy, yes.”

  “Such an attack might cause EMPs against us on the surface,” Livia said. “The orbitals would launch it.”

  “I can give you a breakdown of the likely outcome of any of our missile assaults,” Bain said.

  Livia frowned as she studied the man. “Do you seek to divert my wrath for your collective failure, by refocusing that wrath onto Petty?”

  “I do not,” Bain said. “Instead, I have—well, not me alone, but my staff—has been working on a plan that takes into consideration the recent turn of events.”

  Livia’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Senior General Bain.

  He continued to look straight ahead. He was big, strong, and smart. Unfortunately, he was too arrogant for her tastes.

  Despite that, Livia was torn. She wanted to order him sent to the Lamprey Tank. She wanted him to wrestle her chief bodyguard and watch the match. They would have to wrestle Greek style. That meant wrestling in the nude. Bain thought himself so tough. Wait until he saw the muscles and mass of the chief bodyguard. Bain would whimper for mercy.

  Livia strained to maintain emotional control. She wanted his dismemberment. She hated her military people. She hated all those failing her as her grip on Earth was slowly shaken loose, corporation by corporation.

  “What does this great plan of yours involve?” Livia managed to ask.

  “A direct space attack, from us, against the aliens,” Bain said.

  “Are you mad? The World Government doesn’t have a Space Force.”

  “On the contrary, Director. My plan is sane and to your advantage. It seemed that now was a good time for you to hear it. In particular, you will realize that your cause is not lost, but on the verge of retaking everything, including the aliens.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Livia said, intrigued despite her anger.

  For the first time, Bain turned his head and looked directly at her. His force of will and personality shocked Livia as a shiver of fear crawled down her spine. The man was dangerous. Worse, Senior General Bain did not seem to feel fear. What could be his plan? What did he hope to achieve by saying all this? Could she afford to ignore it?

  “So be it,” Livia said. “We will step into yonder corridor and office. The rest of you will wait to see the outcome. If what Senior General Bain says is sound, it will go well for the rest of you. If not, the General will be the first of the decimation among the lot of you. That way, you will learn that there are consequences for failing me.”

  The others crouched lower, knowing this was bad. The Director had ordered decimation before, having it recorded so she could watch it later.

  The Director had incorporated decimation from the Roman legions of ancient times.

  The word decimation derived from the Latin word “decimus,” meaning “tenth.” It had been a form of collective punishment used against cohorts that had displayed cowardice, mutiny, or gross insubordination. The process instilled fear, ensuring that such offenses would not be repeated.

  When a cohort or legion had been sentenced to decimation, the legionaries were divided into groups of ten. Each ten drew lots, and the legionnaire who drew the marked lot was executed by his nine comrades. The act was carried out by stoning or clubbing to death, ensuring that the others directly participated in the punishment. The method emphasized the collective responsibility and the dire consequences of failing to uphold the legion’s standards.

  While decimation back then had been a rare punishment due to its severity, its very existence served as a powerful deterrent against disobedience and cowardice.

  Livia had ordered it in smaller units. She believed the reoccurring losses mandated drastic action. Now, she considered it among the elite. The highest-ranking officers clubbing their own to death might help instill greater terror and commitment to the cause of the World Government.

  First, she needed to hear what this madman had to tell her.

  Livia pointed at two bodyguards. They detached from the wall and headed for her. Then she headed for the door to listen to the Senior General’s so-called plan.

  -12-

  Livia Drusus, Tom Bain, and the two bodyguards stood in a map room. On the table was a Mercator projection map of Earth. It showed the various military units, the orbital satellites, and blue pins for the known locations of the Orion ships.

  “Well,” Livia said. “What’s your masterful plan that will cause everything to fall into my lap?”

  Bain nodded. “It is an idea whose time is ripe. If you will permit me, Director, I will show you a diagram of what I am about to explain.”

  “Do it already,” she said.

  Bain reached for a map case on his belt, clicked the case open, took out a paper, unfolded it and spread it over the Earth map.

  Livia leaned over to glance at it. What she saw surprised her. “That looks like a rocket design.”

  “It does,” Bain said, “but it is a spaceship.”

  Livia glanced at him sharply. “Why make a spaceship like that, why not an Orion ship?”

  “For a good reason,” Bain said. “Orion ships are too costly and difficult to assemble in secret on Earth. In fact, I suggest you begin sending the parts of our Orion ship to the orbital space yards.”

  “That’s madness. I may have the only Orion ship left after this battle with the aliens is over.”

  “Possibly, but that wouldn’t do us any good—”

  “You’re saying my plan is flawed?” Livia asked, interrupting him.

  “Please excuse me,” Bain said. “That was not my intent. If I may explain more fully…”

  Livia eyed the confident general who ran Missile Command. His missiles always flew as advertised. She had no doubt his counter-missiles would destroy a high percentage of any orbital-launched missiles directed at Earth. Likewise, many of his offensive missiles would destroy the orbital stations. The excellence of Missile Command was the main reason she had almost launched at the orbitals on several occasions.

  Livia knew Bain ran a tight ship and got things done. He was more than confident, but extremely confident. Therefore, he was dangerous. His lack of fear… possibly made him doubly dangerous. She needed to hear what he had to say, though, before she had him executed.

  “Explain your idea freely so I understand exactly,” Livia said.

  “Thank you, Director.” Bain pointed at the design of the missile-like spaceship. “This is predicated off our largest surface-launched space missile, the Guardian III, but expanded to perhaps twice the size. Unfortunately, the Guardian III missiles cannot reach the Moon with any military precision. What I mean is the Guardian III can reach escape velocity, and reach the Moon, but it will be through velocity alone. Once at the Moon, the Guardian III would lack the maneuverability to shift away from dangers or to change its heading as needed. Therefore, the Guardian III is essentially useless with regard to the Moon, except perhaps by giving us a quick lift capacity to send material there. To do that, we would have to remove the warhead and attach a cargo pod in its place.”

  “Why would we want to send any material to the Moon?” Livia asked.

  “Have you seen Dr. Huber’s review papers on the subject of the alien objectives?”

  “Who has not?” Livia replied.

  Bain nodded. “I essentially agree with Dr. Huber’s various analyses. The likeliest possibility is that the aliens are targeting the Moon. I suspect it would cost the aliens every ship if they attempted to reach near-orbital space at Earth. Our missiles, the orbitals’ missiles and railguns, and the Orion ships possess too much firepower against too few alien vessels for them to hope to do that.”

  “What if the aliens possess a new weapon system?” Livia asked.

  “There is no evidence of that,” Bain said calmly. “I have studied the video from the Watchdog-9 satellite carefully to determine that.”

  “What?” Livia asked.

  Bain dipped his head. “The Watchdog-9 satellite originally detected the invasion fleet at Jupiter as it made a gravity assist maneuver.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Livia said.

  “The Watchdog-9 did not find any new weapon ports but showed the well-known particle beam cannon ports and missile tube openings. That suggests the aliens will use similar tactics to what they have before. They might do that in a more orderly or intelligent fashion, though.”

  Bain hesitated.

  “What’s wrong now?” Livia demanded.

  Bain cleared his throat. “If I commanded the alien invasion fleet, I would grab our Moon. Then I would build catapults of whatever sort and start raining rocks at Earth. That would no doubt keep us busy. In other words, that is the most logical move they could make, given their force structure. One thing we know about the Valiants is they are highly logical.”

  “What do you base that conclusion on?”

  “All the studies I have read regarding the captive alien women.”

  “I see. I see. You are quite interested in them, are you?”

  “I am interested in the enemy so that I may know my enemy,” Bain said.

  “How well do you know me, Senior General?”

  “Ma’am, you are not my enemy. You are my superior in every way. I am here to do your bidding.”

  The answer barely mollified Livia, although she waved a hand at him. “Continue.”

  “The idea of sending the parts of the WG Orion ship to Petty is to lull his suspicions against you. You can then say that the World Government is joining the defense of Earth. That should give Petty a greater desire to attack the enemy at the Moon. That means he will take the four Orion ships into battle.”